Stairway to Hell
by The Songbirds Are Singing
Summary: During 8x10, Dean discovers that Lucifer left his mark on Sam and Cas. He has to deal as they break down.


**A/N: My very first Supernatural story...hm. This is a prompt by the lovely Ija, who also wrote a fic from a prompt I gave her. Warnings for a little bit of language, and Sam and Cas having panic attacks. Mostly Sam. If you enjoy, please feel free ot leave a review to tell me what you thought. **

**Set during 'Torn and Frayed', 8x10; spoilers for a bunch of things before that and during the episode. ****I don't own Supernatural or 'Stairway to Heaven', I absolutely promise. **

* * *

Stairway to Hell

Sam during his Lucifer-is-with-me-always phase was...difficult. He would flinch violently at seemingly random times, he wore a permanent frown, he snapped at Dean for sneezing, and he began to forget the one rule which they had followed without question since John had been in charge of the wheel and made them listen to cassette tapes of mythology stories, instead of the music ten year old Dean nagged for: "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole". This rule was indisputable, even when Sam was trying to sleep. If Dean needed to blast AC/DC at extreme volumes, he would do just that and Sam would not complain (often it was to stop Dean himself from falling asleep, but he always neglected to mention that), lest Dean make him get out and walk. But Lucifer changed things, made Sam an altogether different person. There were other signs, of course (being driven mad by the memories of your years of Satanic torture will do that to a person), but what really stood out to Dean was how vehemently and almost fearfully Sam would smash his hand into the dashboard whenever certain songs came on in order to change the stereo. What he turned off changed from day to day, even hour to hour, depending on what Lucifer had tortured him with recently.

Sam's hallucinations seemed to revolve around songs that had been prevalent in his life, that reminded him of moments that were either happy or incredibly painful. One of them had been 'Endless Love' by Lionel Richie and Diana Ross, a song Dean had always been rather fond of for some reason. It came on one night when they were about to go to sleep (they hadn't managed to hustle enough at pool to pay for a room for the night, so the car it was), and Sam had shot up and almost broken the radio with his giant hand as he turned it off altogether. Dean hadn't said anything, Sam later explaining that he remembered John telling them that their mom used to sing it to them when they were babies, and added to the fact that he and Jess used to dance to it, Lucifer had seen it as the perfect song to sing a total of four hundred and sixty four times in a row. Sometimes the songs he ruined were just ones he thought Sam was likely to come across a lot, to make them painful as often as possible; there had been a phase of Christmas carols, apparently, until Lucifer realised that Sam didn't really know any. Even before Lucifer, Sam had always been tetchy about 'Heat of the Moment', but the whole situation had begun to reach ridiculous proportions; eventually, Dean was reduced to finding talk stations, which depressed him no end as he listened to people whinging about their 'terrible' relationships (apparently not doing the washing up constitutes a break up nowadays, making Dean grit his teeth in frustration, remembering what he would have done to hold onto Lisa), about their annoying kids (at least your kids have homes and schools and families, Dean thought bitterly, before berating himself thoroughly) and their nosy neighbours. In his darker moments, Dean sometimes wondered why they even bothered saving humanity: all they did was complain and die.

_Our shadows taller than our soul_

Castiel had always been closer to Dean than to Sam- they did "share a more profound bond", after all- yet what he had done for Sam, when he had set him free of the demon in his head that was slowly killing him, he had displayed a selflessness that was so typical of his character- yet utterly atypical of his species-, so unfailingly _human_ that it had been difficult for Dean to digest at first. Having seen what Lucifer did to Sam, how he had driven him nearly to his death, Dean could scarcely believe that that was all it took to 'cure' him, so to speak. He was ashamed of the fact that he was actually a little jealous; not of the situation Cas was now in, but that he had the capacity to do that for someone, when Dean had been able to do nothing but sit by and watch his own brother being driven mad. It was his responsibility to protect Sammy, he knew that better than anything, yet he had failed, again. Still, he carried on, left Cas in the hands of Meg to slowly rot away inside his own head, and tried to forget.

* * *

Castiel was better, Sam was better, the whole episode was behind them. Purgatory was their most recent conquest, and Hell was but a distant memory. Of course, when Dean shot up out of bed in the middle of the night, Alistair's face looming over his, or the distant screams of one of his victims echoing in his ears, that wasn't forgetting (although it was almost certainly a memory). When Sam was in an enclosed space and had to continually remind himself that Lucifer _wasn't_ there, he _wasn't_, that wasn't forgetting. But they carried on, because they were Winchesters and that was what they did. Castiel never showed signs of remembering what Lucifer had done to him, and Dean rather wondered if his whole bee-loving, Sorry!-playing persona had been his way of shutting out the hallucinations, or if he just went a different kind of crazy to Sam. He had never dared to ask what it was like, having your mind inhabited by the Devil: if he was honest, he was scared of the answer. They sort of pretended it had never happened, although every now and then, Dean would catch Sam or Cas staring at something beside them that wasn't there, then looking away and fixing resolute expressions on their faces, as if they just had to reassure themselves that they were sane now. Sam often pressed his thumb into his palm, often when he was thinking, or-more likely, once Dean thought about it- remembering.

_Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven_

It was when Castiel brought Sam to him one morning that Dean first saw that Lucifer was still with them, and he was not prepared to deal with it. He and Sam weren't speaking, not after what happened with Amelia and Benny, but Cas insisted they needed him and if Dean was honest with himself, it was probably true. As messed up as they were, he and Sam made a team that was better than their individual efforts, and Sam was undoubtedly a gifted hunter. He was certainly better than Dean; Dean just didn't hate it as much as Sam did (which was saying something, because he loathed his life). Disgruntled with both of them, Dean insisted they drive to the warehouse instead of having Cas zap them, so they had time to come up with a plan. Really he just wanted to enjoy the few hours on the road to absorb himself in the comforting monotony of driving which he associated with purpose and family. He knew they knew that, but no one said anything, even as Sam glared daggers into the back of his head from his seat in the back of the car. They didn't make any conversation for about twenty minutes until Dean was finally unable to stand the uncomfortable silence. Castiel hadn't seemed bothered by it (he never did understand Dean's aversion to quiet) and Sam wasn't speaking to either of them (he wanted to be there as little as Dean wanted him there), but Dean hated silence, so he instructed Cas to fiddle with the dial until he found something decent to listen to.

"What is the purpose of this?" Cas asked, not challenging Dean but merely curious as to why he felt the need to fill the peace. He liked quiet: it reminded him of simpler times when his biggest worries were the non conflict-causing internal politics of heaven, and he was able to retreat to his favourite heavens to relax, or observe humanity carrying out the acts which made them so unique and special to him and his father. He had passed many a pleasant decade simply watching the decisions, the actions which made up human history. He missed that.

"The purpose?" Dean almost chuckled. It was always entertaining to him how Cas managed to ask questions which he had never really considered: what _was_ the point of filling a silence with inane noises which just happened to fall into seemingly pleasing sequences? "The purpose, Cas, is to chill out a little before we go into the den of the king of hell to rescue and adorable angel."

"You sure seem keen on Samandriel, Dean." Sam interjected from the back seat. "Something you're not telling us?"

"Bitch." Dean said unthinkly, forgetting that he wasn't talking to Sam momentarily. There came no reply, and Dean watched in the rear view mirror as Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his thumb ghosting over his palm. Cas decided to settle on a station playing the sort of music he recognised as being Dean's favourite, in an attempt to distract him from looking sadly at Sam. Dean looked at him, surprised, but gave an approving nod and returned his eyes to the road. They drove to the accompaniment of Golden Oldies hour, Dean singing along happily and even coaxing a few (surprisingly tuneful) choruses from Castiel. Sam remained silent, staring broodingly out of the window at passing houses and happy families which he so longed to be a part of and distanced himself so far from at the same time.

_There's still time to change the road you're on_

"And now, folks, we're going to delve into some real music: time for Led Zeppelin hour!"

"That's more like it!" Dean exclaimed, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel in preparation for some (totally road-safe) air drumming. Cas smiled at his exuberance, and even Sam glanced his way with what could be interpreted as an amused expression.

"Alright, we'll kick off the hour with one that I think you all know pretty well: a bit of 'Stairway to Heaven' coming your way right now." At first, Dean didn't think anything of it, and even Sam continued to gaze at the bright sky outside, lost in thought, but then the heavy tones of Robert Plant streamed through the speakers, and all hell broke loose.

Castiel stiffened, going utterly rigid in his seat and immediately whipping his head from side to side as if searching for a danger that only he could see. Dean looked over at him, concerned, figuring he'd caught something troubling on Angel radio. "You okay, man?" He asked. When Cas didn't move, he reached over and shook him slightly by the shoulder to get his attention. Instead of turning, or even just continuing to ignore him (as often happened when he was tuned into a different frequency), Cas jerked away, pressing his back against the car door and eyes wildly darting from Dean, to the side, to Sam, to the dashboard, flickering and blinking and pressing backwards as if putting as much distance between himself and Dean as possible. "Woah, Cas." Dean held his hand up in a surrendering gesture. Cas swallowed heavily, his breathing shallow, and Dean was about to say something else when a choking noise came from behind him. Risking a glance over his shoulder, Dean was horrified to see Sammy curled up in his seat, gripping his hair like he was trying to pull it out.

"What the hell is going on? What is wrong with you two?" All too late, he remembered Sammy saying that 'Stairway to Heaven' had been Lucifer's all-time favourite, especially in the mental hospital, where he would sing it at top volume all night to stop Sam sleeping. He darted his hand out to turn the radio off and in the silence which followed, he could hear Cas's laboured breathing and Sam giving out tiny noises that sounded almost like whimpers. "Fuck." Dean said quietly, staving off panic as he wondered what to do. Vampires, demons, Hell, even the Apocalypse he could deal with, but Sam and Cas having mental breakdowns as he cruised down the highway was way out of his comfort zone. His first instinct was to ignore it, to shout at them until they calmed down and they went back to quiet driving, but they just kept cowering in on themselves and he decided the best thing he could do was pull over.

"Okay, try not to panic." He said warily, casting his mind back as best he could to when he would calm Sammy down from a nightmare when he was a kid. He seemed to remember that singing helped, but in this situation he decided that was a bad idea. He waited for a break in the traffic, then darted over to the side of the road and cut the engine. Castiel had calmed down a little, but he still had his arms wrapped around him as if he was trying to hold himself together. "Cas, you okay?" Dean tried, and was endlessly relieved to see him nod ever so slightly.

"Sam is not, however." He said through gritted teeth, suddenly opening the door and climbing out. Dean watched him walk away to the grassy verge and sit, his head in his hands. His breathing was more regular, Dean noted, so turned to focus on Sammy, who was now beginning to hyperventilate.

"Sammy, look at me." He said as gently as he could. There was no response, so Dean climbed as carefully as he could into the back seat, making sure he didn't jostle Sam or make any sudden movements.

_Your head is humming and it won't go_

"Sam, can you hear me?" Dean tried; nothing.

_And the voices of those who stand looking_

Sighing, he clasped a hand onto Sam's back, startling him enough that he let out a strangled cry. "It's not Lucifer, Sammy, it's just me." He said firmly, his hand rubbing slow circles on his brother's back, like he was a child. About five minutes passed of Sam's laboured breathing and occasional muffled groan until eventually his hands dropped from his hair and his tightly closed eyes opened, making eye contact with Dean until eventually his gaze dropped into his lap where his hands twisted nervously. He seemed to have snapped out of it, but he was shaking slightly and his thumb was pressed so hard into his palm that it had gone completely white.

"Can you hear me now?" He said more softly and Sam gave a shaky nod.

"Sorry." He mumbled, eyes not meeting Dean's out of embarrassment. "'s just a stupid song."

"Hey, clearly it's not, okay?" Dean reasoned, relief clear in his tone to have Sam talking. "Cas got all freaked out as well, so it's not just you."

"Still; I'm supposed to be better now." He said, not frightened now, but angry, frustrated. "If I'm still susceptible to breaking down over a fucking _song_, then what the hell did Castiel even absorb my crazy for, anyway? It messed him up, too, obviously." He made a weak gesture to outside, where Cas was still sitting in the grass, seemingly uncaring that his coat was getting muddy. He was shivering slightly and Dean remembered that it was January.

"Come on." He said, patting Sam on the back and clambering out of the car. His leg had fallen asleep a little beneath him because of the uncomfortable position he had been comforting Sam in, but he walked it off, not wanting to give Sam another reason to feel guilty. He heard Sam behind him as they made their way over to Castiel, each one settling down beside him and trying not to shiver at the cold, as he was. "You feeling okay, Cas?" Dean asked slightly tentatively.

"I am fine now, yes." He said, even more gruffly than usual. He didn't have his head in his hands any more, which Dean took to be a good sign, but he still looked troubled. "I had no idea such a simple thing could be of such an affect to me. I apologise." Sam snorted beside him.

"If anyone should be apologising, it should be me." He said. "I mean, I'm the one who went crazy in the first place, and at least you didn't start hyperventilating."

"That is because I am an angel of the Lord, and am naturally less prone to emotional incapacitation than you humans. Nevertheless, the song had an affect one me, so one can only imagine what it did to you, Sam." Coming from anyone else, the implication that Sam was less stable would have been insulting; from Cas, it was merely an attempt at sympathy, and one which Sam appreciated. There was quiet for a long while as Sam and Cas lost themselves in thought, Dean for once refraining from complaining about how uncomfortable it was, as he sensed that neither wanted to move again and get back into the car. He even heard a suspicious sniff or two coming from Cas's other side. After almost fifteen minutes, Sam stood up stiffly.

"We should really get going" he said. "I need a coffee, and it'll be dark soon." Dean agreed, standing up and offering a hand to Cas. He knew that he was perfectly capable of standing up on his own, but it was a gesture of support that even Castiel recognised. They made their way back to the car, and Dean made sure the song had ended before he let either of them back in. This time, as they listened to the people of Nebraska complaining about the state of the public school system.

* * *

The diner they chose for coffee was slightly more upscale than what they were used to, but Dean felt like Sammy deserved some good quality coffee for once, and besides, they had recently struck gold in one of their credit card scams, so could afford to splurge a little. Sam's tear stained eyes (which Dean had tactfully not pointed out) and Cas's snow-coated trench coat (he hadn't thought to brush any of it off; normally Dean would have done it for him, but he sensed Cas didn't really want to be touched at the moment) earned them a few odd glances, but the waitress was friendly nonetheless, simpering slightly when Dean gave her his most winning smile and earning himself a free slice of pie.

"We actually have money for once, Dean, you don't have to flirt your way into getting free food." Sam said, his normal bitch face disconcertingly absent as he said it.

"Ah, old habits." Dean replied breezily, passing Cas the third coffee he had ordered. Normally Cas would have noticed that he had ordered extra. "Drink." He said sternly.

"Dean, you are aware of the fact that I do not require human sustenance, yes?" Cas said, sounding more tired than usual.

"I don't care, coffee is good for the soul." He winced internally at his choice of words, worrying he might set one of them off again, but neither seemed bothered, so he went back to his pie.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Cas said eventually, the crease on his forehead appearing as it always did when he was worried. "I have an obligation to watch over you, yet now you have to take care of me." Dean didn't know what to say to that for a moment, then put his fork down.

"Cas, I've told you before: you are family. And family helps family out when they're in a bad place. Same goes for you as it does for Sammy." He was a little uncomfortable, as he always was during chick-flick moments, but it appeared to mean something to Cas, who reached across the gap between them and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, right over the hand print which was still marked into his skin.

"Thank you, Dean." He said seriously, his eyes boring into Dean's until Dean shifted slightly uncomfortably.

"Yeah, yeah." He said brusquely. "Drink your coffee." Cas nodded and removed his hand, smiling slightly to himself as he took a sip. Dean could feel Sam's eyes on him so he looked down at his pie, cursing silently as he felt his ears go red. Sam gave an ever so slight chuckle, but thankfully said nothing.

_Sometimes words have two meanings_

They had finished their coffees, but no one felt quite ready to go and face up to Crowley yet (even though Dean had to push down a squelch of guilt that they were leaving Samandriel for even a few minutes longer than necessary), so Sam ordered himself some pie, Dean following suit to get seconds. Sam rolled his eyes, which Dean noticed. "Bitch" he muttered, not really expecting Sam to reply, but when the corresponding "jerk" came from across the table, he smiled to himself.

"In these situations, I believe it is proper to talk about what has occurred." Cas said eventually, causing Sam to groan. Normally, Dean would have agreed, but something told him Cas hadn't just said it out of social awkwardness: perhaps he needed to talk about what had happened.

"Okay." Dean said slowly, earning him a surprised glance from Sam. "I guess I should ask you something." He was deliberately addressing Cas, giving Sam the option not to join in if he didn't want to, but leaving the question open enough for him to contribute.

"What is your question?" Cas replied.

"Okay, well," Dean was unsure of how to phrase it, so he decided to say it outright. "When you absorbed Sam's crazy, did you get the Lucifer hallucinations, too?"

_My spirit is crying for leaving_

Cas didn't reply immediately, instead making eye contact with Sam, asking him wordlessly if he was allowed to answer. Dean was almost shocked by the tact behind the action, until he remembered that of course Cas would be able to relate to Sam now: they had a shared madness which brought them closer, he supposed. While he was happy about that (God only know how much all of them needed new friends), he was embarrassed at the slight jealousy he felt. He ignored it, however, focusing his attention on Cas's answer.

"For a short while, yes, I was haunted by the presence of my brother." Dean always forgot that Cas was sort of related to Lucifer. For some reason, the idea sent chills up his spine. "As I once said to Sam, it was something of an after taste of what the madness inflicted upon him, so not only did I have the remnants of all the effects of Lucifer's past tortures, but he also enjoyed making new ones for me. I believe he saw some sort of irony behind singing 'Stairway to Heaven' to an angel, although I did not find it as amusing. But then, he always did think himself more entertaining than he actually was."

"I guess his jokes weren't funnier in Enochian." Dean said awkwardly, regretting it immediately as he realised it was the wrong time to be making stupid jokes. But Sam did laugh, a little, and even Castiel seemed to understand, laughing out loud himself. Neither of their laughs sounded right, too nervous and out of place, but it seemed to let out some of their pent-up Lucifer energy, and when they stopped, their eyes were slightly lighter. Dean turned to Cas.

"I'm really, really sorry that you had to go through that, man." He said sincerely, then looking at his brother. "You too, Sam. I don't think I've said it, and I'm sorry about that. I can't even imagine what it must have been like. After you got out of the nut house, I pushed it away, pretended it hadn't happened, but I shouldn't have; I shouldn't have expected you to just carry on."

"We're Winchesters, Dean, it's what we do." Sam said wryly, eating some pie. "But thanks, anyway."

"You're welcome." Dean nodded, also accepting the warm smile Cas sent him through the frown which still occupied his forehead. "Now, who's ready to go save an adorable angel?"

_Ooh, it makes me wonder,  
Ooh, it really makes me wonder._

_And she's buying a stairway to heaven._

* * *

**A/N: Like I said, if you liked, please leave a review; this is dedicated to Ija- only a couple more weeks to go, then we're done! **


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